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Wednesday, 28 September 2011

The struggles between men and gods often bring out the very best, and the very worst in both in the legends of the ancient world. The lowliest peasant could be raised to the divine, and the mightiest king could fall to the most humiliating ruin. For there existed a delicate balance between the mortal world and the immortal plain, a balance which held bound within it dire consequences for those who sought to violate the laws of nature. For every man blessed with Paradise in the golden, sun drenched Elysian fields, many more were cursed to hideous retribution in the fires of Tartarus. One such malign soul was Tantalus.

The Tantalisation of Tantalus
Painting by Giocchano Assereto

The son of Zeus, the thunder god himself, and the sea nymph Plouto, Tantalus was of an exalted line. King of the mighty realm of Phrygia too, he was a powerful man indeed. The bounty of the Earth, the reverence of man and the lineage of gods, however, had made Tantalus a proud man. Soon, he began to to question the omnipotence of the Olympians. However, his cruel leanings as yet unknown, one day Tantalus was invited to the dine at a banquet with the gods themselves, high on Mount Olympus (just as Ixion had been too, for this story, please click here). Far from being honoured at this request from on high, Tantalus decided to use this opportunity to put the gods to the test. Legend spoke of a magical substance that was the food of gods, a divine material borne to Olympus by doves shining white as the burning sun. This substance was ambrosia, which sustained the ageless life of the immortals, and granted invulnerability to whomsoever should seek sustenance from it. At the table of Olympus, the gods honoured Tantalus by allowing him to taste Ambrosia, and nectar, the drink which sustained the immortals. Through sleight of hand, Tantalus slipped a portion below the table, with an eye to sharing this majestic food with mortal men, out of spite for the gods. The King of gods and men was unmoved, though he saw Tantalus' ploy, such envy was to be expected from mortals, who so frequently believed their own plight to be greater than that of all others. The worst, however, was yet to come.

The Fall of Tantalus
Engraving by Hendrick Goltzius

Tantalus invited the gods to try a dish of his own making, as gratitude for the warm hospitality they had granted him. Happily, they agreed. Resolved to testing their so called omiscience, Tantalus decided upon a grisly trial. Cruel and heartless to the bone, Tantalus murdered his own son, Pelops, and boiled his flesh. Slicing the corpse up, Tantalus crafted a fine dish, one which veiled its gruesome secret from mortal eyes. Returning to the banquet hall, Tantalus served up the evil dish to the assembled gods. At once, the enraged gods were made aware of Tantalus' fell designs, as all things are laid bare before their eyes. All that is, except for Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, who absent mindedly began to chew on one of Pelop's shoulders, distracted by grief as she was at the loss of her daughter Persephone (whose story will be told in a future post). The fury of the Thunderer was a terror to behold, for the slaughter of one's own kin was the gravest of crimes, the most vile of corruptions and most heinous of sins a man could commit. Zeus banished Tantalus to Tartarus, the deepest, darkest and most grim depths of the Underworld. In this cruel land, the most evil men and women met their fates, and it was here too that the Titans were bound in their infernal prison (for this story, please click here). Like Sisyphus before him, Tantalus was doomed to an eternity of vain struggling (for the damnation of Sisyphus, please click here). Tantalus was ordered to stand in a pool of water, deep in unholy Tartarus. Zeus imbued within him an agonising thirst, yet whenever Tantalus should try to drink from the pool, the Thunderer commanded the waters to recede before his very eyes, so that his thirst should never be quenched. Furthermore, Zeus imposed another ordeal:

" Trees spread their foliage high over the pool and dangled fruits above
his head - pear trees and pomegranates, apple trees with their glossy
burden, sweet figs and luxuriant olives. But whenever the old man made
to grasp them in his hands, the wind would toss them up towards the clouds "
- THE PUNISHMENT OF TANTALUS

The Peloponnese
Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy

Condemned to an eternal fate of thirst and hunger, the fate of Tantalus was sealed, bound in the abyss. Stunned by Tantalus inhumanity, Zeus ordered Clotho, one of the Three Fates, to restore Pelops to life. Realising that Pelops had a peculiar stance due to his mangled shoulder, Hephaestus, the god of the forge, crafted a new shoulder from the finest ivory, and granted it to the young prince. Aphrodite, goddess of sensuality bestowed the gift of extraordinary beauty upon Pelops, taking pity upon the prince too. Poseidon, the god of the oceans and the Lord of Horses, gave Pelops a winged chariot which could ride the surface of the seas. Setting forth from Olympus lofty heights, Pelops travelled the lands of Greece, the legends of his grace and prowess spreading before him. Even the lands he travelled through took their name from him, and it is indeed after Pelops that the Peloponnese is named.

Word soon spread throughout the lands of Greece however, of the proclamation of King Oinomaos of Elis, that to the best of men he would give the hand of his daughter, Hippodaemia, in marriage. Any man was welcome to try, but should he fail, he would die. For the challenge was a chariot race, whereby the suitor would attempt to reach the Isthmus of Corinth. Oinomaos would set off in immediate pursuit, in full armour, and if he caught up, he would slay the man. Twelve men had so far accepted the King's deadly challenge, and twelve lay slain, their heads now hanging from the Royal Palace. For the King, unbeknownst to the suitors, possessed the horses and arms of Ares, the god of war, and no human mercy. The stakes were high indeed, when Pelops arrived at the court of Oinomaos.

The Land of Elis
Photograph taken by the author

Entering the throne room, Pelops came before the King to accept the lethal challenge. Lurking nearby, however, was Hippodameia herself, and she was immediately struck by the dart of Eros, stunned by the handsome form of Pelops, blessed by the gods as he was. That night, before the race began, Hippodameia made a secret visit to the quarters of Myrtilos, the King's charioteer. Begging him to help her and come to Pelops' aid in the race, she won Myrtilos over, who agreed, harbouring secret desires for the princess himself. Dawn arrived and rose into the sky, as the line was set and the chariots were made ready. Careful to avoid being seen, however, Myrtilos approached the King's chariot and removed the axle pin from the wheels, replacing it with one made of wax. Pelops soared off the line, racing along the coast of the land which bore his name. With a shout, King Oinomaos set off in pursuit, spear raised and primed for blood once more. However, the sun beat down, and the stresses of the race soon took their course, and the wax began to melt. The King's chariot began to fall apart, and Oinomaos, entangled in the reins was thrown to the sand, dragging helplessly through the ground. Battered, broken and dying, Oinomaos realised Myrtilos' treachery, and with his last words cursed the charioteer to die by Pelops' hand.

Triumphant with victory, Pelops returned to claim Hippodameia's hand, stopping on the road to collect some water. On his return to his new princess he saw Myrtilos attempting to steal away with his new bride, maddened as the charioteer was with passion. Enraged, Pelops seized Myrtilos and hurled him from Cape Geraistos, fulfilling the prophecy of King Oinomaos. Myrtilos however, seething with injustice, proclaimed a terrible curse upon the House of Pelops and his progeny, that it should be forever hounded by strife, and afflicted by death, its descendants doomed to die before their time...

The tale of the treachery of Tantalus, and the adventures of Pelops, is a legendary one in the lore of the ancient Greeks. The cursed line of Pelops would continue to shape the course of history for generations, and the curse would inflict its terrible price for years to come. Not even mighty Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, and grandson of Pelops through his father Atreus, would escape it. But the legacy of Pelops that lives on today is the land of Southern Greece, a land of magnificent beauty, among whose illustrious sons can be counted the formidable Spartans, the greatest warriors ever born. What of Tantalus? Well, his legacy is found within our very language. For even today in English, if a person is tantalised, they are victim to temptation...

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

Still seething with anger at the corruption within the Roman Church, Dante and Virgil walk the path to the fourth of the Rotten Pockets of the Eighth Circle of Hell (for the precursor to this story, please click here). Deeper and deeper into the regions of Hell where the fraudulent meet their judgement they descend, as the very air of Hell grows heavy upon their shoulders, until Dante arrives at the summit of a steep drop, where at the bottom more sinners lurk.

The Nine Circles of Hell
Painting by Sandro Botticelli.

Just within sight, our pilgrim spies the valley floor awash with tears, tears shed by the mournful spirits of the damned within. Movement suddenly breaks the deathly stillness of the pit. Shades begin to move far below. Slowly and clumsily a fresh array of souls march across the pocket, oddly deformed though they are. Gazing at their sorry, weeping faces, Dante's eyes move down over their broken forms, revealing their cruel punishment. Twisted and contorted beyond nature, these poor souls see only behind them, whilst their bodies face the fore. Cascading down their front, their hair, down their back, their tears, these are the souls of the sorcerers and the false prophets. Here the punishment is an ironic taunt of the condemned's crime in life. For while the soothsayers claimed foresight of the future in life, here they see only the past in Hell. Amongst the many suffering spirits from ancient and modern times, Dante spots many he and Virgil recognise. One such shade that ambles before them is the blind seer Tiresias, the man blessed with prophecy by Zeus, the very man who revealed to Oedipus his dread fate in Thebes, many thousands of years ago (in a story told on this site, please click here). Having once briefly been transformed into a woman, Tiresias held the secret knowledge of both man and woman, and was revered for the unique revelations this brought unto him, even by the gods. The gods questioned Tiresias about goddesses, and goddesses of gods, until argument broke out upon Olympus' snowy peaks. In a rage, Hera struck Tiresias blind, but in compassion, Zeus imparted within Tiresias the power of foresight. A gift for which he now pays (rather unfairly) in Hell. Many others who placed faith in the words of the Oracle of Delphi in ancient times follow in his wake, stricken with grief at their sad fate. But the hour grows late and the Moon speeds its passage across the skies.

A Barrator is cast into the boiling pit of tar
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Crossing over a bridge of crumbling stone, the two poets stumble upon the fifth of the Rotten Pockets of Hell. Dante is struck by how thick the darkness is that closes in. His mind suddenly turned to the pitch used to coat the hull of a ship, he sees a vast lake as black as night. Bubbles boil to the surface of the infernal waters, but before he can consider too long, a nightmarish apparition swoops upon them, leathery wings spanning wide, evil horns sprouting from its form. A sinner is borne upon its shoulders, terror upon his face, as the winged demon mercilessly casts him into the accursed pit. More of the foul demons pass into sight, all hurling taunts at the souls within the pit. From their words, our pilgrim learns that here are condemned politicians tainted with corruption. Just as their blighted souls and dark dealings spoiled their honour in life, so now they are immersed in sticky and burning tar in death. Their numbers are many, crooked counsellors of the Italian cities alone stretch as far as the eye can see. Men, who for coin can 'change a no into a yes', writhe in agony in the pit, and those who in desperation seek respite from the burning tar are pounced upon by the demons, ever ready with their cruel weapons. These malevolent fallen angels are the Malebranche, whose sole task is to maintain the suffering of their domain. Suddenly, they see before them our two poets. Claiming the authority of the Most High, Virgil steps forward and demands safe passage through the pocket. Arrogant and disbelieving, Malacoda, their fell captain, steps forward. His kin suddenly aware of Dante, and assuming him to have been send for his judgement, pounce upon him. But Malacoda stays their blades, fearful of God's wrath. Virgil and Dante may take their path, he declares, and he will even supply an escort, since he tells them the bridge they seek lies broken, having collapsed many centuries ago.

The dark troop set off alongside the banks of the lake. The damned tremble at their approach, and dive into the tar in terror.The fell creatures drag a poor sinner from the pit, and for the thrill of torture they pierce him with their spears, laughing at his plight. In desperation, the sinner begs to be hurled back to the tar, promising to return with more. Maddened by glee, the demons release him. But the sinner does not return. Enraged that the spirit has once more committed fraud, the very reason for his sentence to Hell, the Malebranche quarrel as to how seek vengeance, before pelting after him. In the struggle, two of the demons fall into the boiling pitch. Sensing trickery in the confusion, Virgil urgently seizes Dante's hand, and they frantically scarper down a vast slope of scree.

The Hypocrites
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Not a moment too soon our poets reach the foot of the mount, for far above them, the Malebranche have returned, flailing their wings in anger at their escaped prey. Dante turns, shuddering at the thought of being left alone in this place, when a curious new sight greets his wearied eyes. A great line of souls, shuffling forward with no great speed, their forms all but hidden by strange shining cloaks. Dazzled for but a moment, Dante realised the cloaks gleam as though made of gold, yet the souls are bent over, seeing nothing but the ground. Puzzled at this new ordeal, our pilgrim turns to his master, questioning him on this fate. Hearing Tuscan spoken aloud, a nearby soul raises its head and slowly marches toward them. Another soon follows, the two apparently friends in life. Dante introduces himself as a proud Florentine, and eagerly askes them who they once were. 'Jovial Friars' they once were, of the Order of the Blessed Virgin Mary (a 13th century military order). Renowned as the Friars were for failing to keep to their monastic vows, Dante realises that here, in the sixth of the Rotten Pockets of Hell, are punished the hypocrites. Gilded and gleaming though their heavy cloaks may be on the inside, within they are lined with lead, its crushing weight barring their passage on into the afterlife. Just as their words masked falsehood within in life, so their outward displays of affluence betray a crippling burden in Hell.

Despairing at their wretchedness, Dante begins to rebuke the deceitful spirits, when suddenly the souls part to reveal a terrible punishment in their midst. Another shade lies there, crucified to the ground, his weak form hammered into the harsh ground. This man is Caiaphas, the man who preached to the Pharisees the inevitability that one man must die for many, but who himself bade Pontius Pilate condemn Christ to the crucifixion. He is cursed here as a seed of evil. Dante notices that even Virgil looks on in amazement, but is puzzled why. Before he can learn why, however, Virgil asks the Friars for a way out of this place. Certainly, they reply, escape is possible, all they must do is climb up the escarpment, and take the bridge that spans this realm. Cursing, Virgil suddenly realised the deceit of Malacoda. The bridge was not broken at all. One of the souls turns sympathetically to Virgil:

"And the friar: 'Once, in Bologna, I heard discussed
the devil's many vices; one of them is
that he tells lies and is father of all lies "

- THE DECEIT OF HELL

Affronted, and angered, Virgil strides off, Dante in hot pursuit, glad of company, but uneasy that here they begin to penetrate the reaches of Hell where not even his great guide knows all any longer. For they come ever closer to the Pit of Hell now, and Satan's malign influences grow in strength...

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

With one last task standing between Heracles and his ascension to godhood, the mortal hours of the son of Zeus were numbered. Since the curse of Hera eight long years ago, the hero had toiled endlessly in the service of King Eurystheus, travelling far and wide, and facing some of the most terrible creatures which walked the earth (for the previous episode in this saga, please click here). Having thoroughly proved himself on the mortal plain, just one arena remained to be overcome...

Cape Taenarum today
Photograph taken by 'Eliasar'

Having travelled to the furthest boundaries of the Great Ocean, deceived the mighty Atlas and borne the divine Apples of the Hesperides to Tiryns, the contempt Heracles had all along received from Eurystheus was at last turning to reverence. The last enemy that remained to be conquered was death itself. For his final Labour, the King declared that Heracles must descend into the land of the dead, and bring the hound of Hades himself, Lord of the Dead, before him. The beast which guarded the gates to the inner sanctum of the Underworld was no ordinary dog, however. For Cerberus was another of the vile brood of the monster gods Typhon and Echidna (for their role in the Creation, please click here), and brother to such beings as the Hydra, the Lion of Nemea, the Chimaera and the hell hound Orthus. Gigantic in stature, triple headed (some tales speak of a hundred heads), dragon tailed and with serpentine heads bursting from its back, there was no more terrible doorman to the realm of the dead than Cerberus. Excited at the coming end, Heracles enthusiastically departed the mighty walled city of Tiryns on what he hoped would be his final quest. Rumours abound of several gateways on Earth through which one can enter the Underworld. One such one was a deep fissure in the Earth at Cape Taenarum - the most southerly point on Mainland Greece, a prominence which speared forth into the Mediterranean Sea. Southwards the son of Zeus journeyed, until the horizon was the unbroken line of the distant Sea. Finding an eerie silence, devoid of birdsong, the sound of the winds in the trees or the calls of other beasts, Heracles knew he was close. Coming to the pitch blackness of the mouth of a cavern, dauntless, the hero descended into its murky depths.

Cerberus
Painting by William Blake

Deeper and darker the path fell, as the son of Zeus became aware that he was being watched. The shades of the deceased began to stir, and relentlessly approached. With a start Heracles suddenly saw a grim sight before him. Slithering into the faint light, a woman's form, but for a reptilian tail and a head of hissing snakes for hair, the abomination gazed upon the hero. Medusa herself was looking him right in the eye. In a flash, Heracles drew his sword and advanced upon the creature. With a burst of sudden light, Hermes appeared before Heracles and stayed his hand. The messenger of the gods reassured him that this was the domain of the deceased, and Medusa was no more than a ghostly apparition of her former self. The only one of the Gorgons that was mortal, Medusa had been slain by the hero Perseus, and henceforth banished to this realm (for this story, please click here). Her murderous stare died with her. Continuing upon the dark road, Heracles began to see others he recognised. Many souls stumbled forth to embrace the hero, including the hero Theseus, hoping to be rescued from this grim land, but their ethereal hands simply passed through his flesh. Lacking corporeal form, the spirits of the dead were devoid of speech, requiring a sacrifice of blood to grant them awareness. Seeing a paddock of cattle nearby, Heracles started towards it, and slaughtered the largest bull he could find, eager to hear the words of the dead. Their herdsmen, however, was angered that Heracles had dared touch the cattle of Hades, and launched himself at the hero. The two wrestled frantically, the dead circling around them. Using his divine strength, Heracles clamped his arms around the herdsmen's chest, and wrenched with all his might. A sickening crack rent the air, heralding the shattering of the herdsman's ribs. Triumphant, Heracles turned to find himself with Hades himself, god of the dead, and Persephone, Queen of the Underworld.

Heracles and Cerberus
Image taken from a 6th century BC Etruscan Vase

Persephone scolded Heracles for his violence, as Hades demands the reason for his presence in this realm, a realm the living should not tread. The son of Zeus boldly told the god of his task, and asked Hades for permission to take Cerberus. Reluctantly, Hades agreed that he could take him, on the condition that he do so without harming the hound in any way, and that he use no weapons to overpower the beast. Agreeing to this, Heracles ventured deeper into the Halls of Erebus, coming ever close to the Gates of Tartarus. Coming to Acheron, the River of Pain, on the boundaries of the deepest parts of the Underworld (as it is in Dante's Inferno, see here), Heracles glimpsed the hell hound in the distance. Towering, and snarling, Cerberus stood guard over fiery Tartarus. Heracles watched for a moment as the souls of the damned appeared behind Cerberus. Fawning and docile toward any who approached his domain, Cerberus allowed readily any soul to enter Tartarus. But behind, any accursed shade that tried to escape their hellish prison was seized by the hound and brutally slashed. Remembering Hades' warning, Heracles sheathed his sword, but was careful to wrap the lion skin tightly around him. Approaching the Gate, Heracles was relieved to see that Cerberus was calm, expecting Heracles to enter Tartarus. Suddenly diving at the monster, Heracles grappled with its three heads. Like lightning, as though possessed, Cerberus thrashed against the hero. Thrown by the hound's sudden fury, Heracles grip loosened, and Cerberus slammed one of his many jaws shut on the hero's arm. Though in terrible agony from the savage bite, Heracles gritted his teeth and held on for dear life, as Cerberus, and the surrounding Gate, shuddered violently. For an age man and beast struggled, as Heracles began the long, agonisingly slow march back to Tiryns, wrestling the great dog the entire way. With his last reserves of strength, Heracles heaved Cerberus into the hall of King Eurystheus, who was so terrified of the hound he had hidden in a nearby jar. Shouting from within it, he pleaded with Heracles to return it to the Underworld, declaring his tasks and an end, and his oath fulfilled.

The Apotheosis of Heracles
Painting by François Lemoyne

A wave of euphoria gripped Heracles. At last. At long last he was free. Nearly ten years had passed since he first set out for the Lion of Nemea, and now so much had changed. Now the heroic wanderings of Heracles began, as the son of Zeus travelled far across the known world, revered as a living god by his fellow men. Countless wars were ended by his club, cities were founded in his name, and other fell creatures were hurled to the House of Death by his hand. He fought the first war with Troy, conquered the Giants, travelled with the Argonauts to the Golden Fleece and founded the Olympic Games. It was at the climax of this Golden Age that his final fate unfolded. One day, mighty Heracles arrived in the Kingdom of Calydon, eager to win the hand of the King's daughter, Deianeira, in marriage. Though humbled by the presence of so mighty a man, King Oineus resolved to hold a contest of worthiness. Heracles and the River God Acheloos stepped forward to compete, as the issue would be settled by a wrestling match. Even though Acheloos was a shape shifter, and became the form of a bull, Heracles won with little difficulty, after enduring all he had in his Labours. Delighted, King Oineus gave Deianeira to Heracles for a bride. The two departed happily for new lands, coming to the banks of the River Evenos. By the fast flowing river stood a Centaur, astride a small boat. The Centaur introduced himself as Nessus, and offered to ferry the two across. Seeing that the craft was not big enough for all of them, Heracles bade Deianeira take the ferry, whilst he would swim across. Just as they were halfway across, Heracles heard screaming. True to the debauched nature of Centaurs, Nessus had seized hold of Deianeira, and attempted to steal her away. The Centaur had not forgotten Heracles' slaying of many of his brethren many years ago when he sought the Erymanthian Boar (see here), and determined to take revenge. Furious, Heracles took up his bow and fired an arrow through the Centaurs hind leg. Since the arrows of Heracles were impregnated with the Hydra's poison (see here), Nessus' fate was sealed, as he began to die an agonising death. Seeing one last opportunity to take vengeance, Nessus gave his bloodsoaked tunic to Deianeira, telling her secretly that the blood of Centaurs was a powerful love potion.

Some years later, Heracles prepared to give his final sacrifice to Zeus. Ordering his servant Lichas to bring to him some fine clothing so he could conduct the ritual, Heracles began his preparations. Lichas came before Deianeira with Heracles request. Rumour, however, had reached her ears that Heracles had fallen for a foreign princess. Fearing he would leave her forever, Deianeira took a linen shirt and smeared some of Nessus' blood upon it, confident it would restore her husband's fidelity. Lichas bore the tunic back to his master, who immediately put it on and stood before the sacrificial fire. As the shirt grew warm, suddenly Heracles was struck with blinding agony.

His very skin was as though alight, as white hot pain spread across his body. Unknown to the hero, the tunic was drenched in the blood of Nessus, which in turn was saturated in the Hydra's poison. Heracles, who had used the monster's poison to slay some of the mightiest beasts on Earth, now knew their pain. In desperation, Heracles tried to rip the tunic from him, but his skin was torn with it, so potent was the Hydra's poison. Knowing that his death was at hand, Heracles was struck mad by the intense agony, and hurled Lichas from a cliff, believing him to have done this. When word reached Deianeira of what had happened, she hanged herself in shame. Resolving not to die like this, Heracles built his own pyre, as his strength rapidly dwindled. Climbing on to it, Heracles desperately called for someone to set it alight and end his suffering. Poias, a faithful Argonaut, moved to tears at what he saw, was the only one willing to do so. In return, Heracles bequeathed his great bow to him, as the flames began to lick his body.

The fire blazed, and with mighty tremor and roar of thunder, Heaven suddenly opened in the sky, and the clouds parted. In a glorious flash of lightning, Zeus himself came down to Earth to claim Heracles. The fire had burned away the hero's mortal side, but his immortal spirit was untouched. The Thunderer bore his son up to Mount Olympus, and at last, Heracles entered the light. Moved by his suffering, Hera at last took pity on Heracles, and declared her feud at an end. Welcomed in Heaven, Heracles had earned his place in the company of gods...